Blood Reversal
by Liquid Lilac
Summary: When you're craving for a cup of tea in the middle of the night, you never know who you're going to run into while in you're in your kitchen. James never expected to meet anyone, much less HER. Based on Alex Broun's play "Blood Reversal".


It was fairly late, but James wasn't sure why he was up. It was just that he was having a deep craving for tea; Lipton green tea to be exact. What could he do when he had such a craving? Well, the only thing he could do. He had crawled out of bed, without his wife noticing,and made his way to the kitchen in the dark. That was when he felt that something was out of place.

As he reached over to grab the water boiler and poured the steaming liquid into his cup, his hand reached for the light switch. That was his first mistake.

As soon as the lights came on, he was met by the sight of a knife pointed at his face. The long, slender hand that was held to the knife belonged to the face of a petite yet-stern looking woman. Their eyes connected, and for a brief moment, he felt a connection with her. It quickly passed from his mind though, as soon as she pressed the knife closer to him and she began to inspect him.

"Nice PJs." The woman commented. Even her soft, slightly accented voice sounded familiar. It was too bad he couldn't put a finger on where he knew her from.

"Ta" was all that James could find to say. There was a lump in his throat. He feared that the knife would slide through his skin and arteries, killing him instantly. There was another slight pause as her brown eyes scanned his body.

"The patterns… Teddy bears?" She asked,as if she couldn't believe that he would own such pyjamas. Actually, he wouldn't be caught dead buying these, but since his wife had bought them for him, he wore them.

"Kittens." He stated curtly.

"Cute." She mocked, looking at him again. This time James couldn't help but feel like she was admiring them.

He examined the knife more closely as she was busy with the pyjamas. "Nice knife." He said, realising where he had seen it before.

"It's not mine." The woman brought it back for a second to look at it before pressing the tip to his throat again, this time touching his Adam's apple.

"I know. I bought it for my wife." James stated. He could hear himself go up another octave as the sharp tip of the knife touched his skin. He really hoped that he wouldn't die today.

"Present?"

"Last Christmas. Came in a boxed set." He remembered that Christmas well. Everyone had been there.

"Stylish."

James shrugged, trying to relax. "She thought so."

Bad idea; the blade pressed closer to him, as if the woman had suddenly become terrified. "And she is?" she asked, still interrogating him, apparently.

"Not here. Away." The knife pressed a bit closer to James. This time James panicked. He wasn't sure what to do. "With my mum." Closer. "Her mum. Camping."

The woman narrowed her eyes. James could feel himself sweating. His eyes frantically looked around the kitchen to see if there was anything to distract him from her chocolate brown gaze. He found nothing.

"Don't lie." Her voice was full of venom.

"I am not." James stated, trying to sound calm.

"Don't. Lie."

"I'm—"

"Not very good at it?" She asked, looking at him. James continued to freeze up, looking at her. His grip on the mug now grew tighter. He really didn't want to break the cup, but it was slipping out of his hands because of the perspiration that has formed on his palms. He was nervous, and scared for his life.

Apparently she saw it too.

"Would you like to put that down?"

James looked at the knife in her hand. "After you." He quipped, wanting her to put her knife down. He would rather not risk his life.

She gave a forced laugh. "Very funny." She scowled.

"I try." He shrugged as he tried to move towards the table.

"Don't' get any ideas." Her tone was threatening him now. Something was different now. It didn't seem like she would kill him. It was as if she had been bluffing all along.

"I—"

"Just don't." She cut him off yet again, eyeing him as he put down the tea.

He looked at her, then the chair, being careful. He didn't want to risk the life of his wife upstairs, and he didn't want to have to leave her with the mess of his bloodied body to clean up in the morning.

So instead he gestured to the chair. "May I?" He asked, trying to regain the confidence he lost a few moments ago. The woman just nodded.

That was when he noticed it. There was a loud sound of propellers and bright searchlights blaringthrough the window. The woman ran to the window, pulled the curtains back slightly and peered up. When she swore loudly, James knew something was up.

"Friends of yours?" He asked, still staring at her.

She whipped back her head back to look at him and glared. "Real King of Comedy, aren't you?" she growled.

He shrugged, giving her a smirk.

She didn't like that. Her face contorted angrily and she turned the rest of her body around to face him again, advancing. "Stop trying. Now." She growled, moving quickly. Too quickly. Something seemed to have gotten to her and she winced in pain.

"You okay?" James asked, not worrying. Why should he be worried about this stranger?

The woman seemed to have gotten the same impression, since she snorted. "Why do you care?" she asked, grabbing her side. The brunet knew that something was up.

"It was just a question." He didn't need to defend himself. Hehad just said it for the sake of saying it.

She winced again, hunching over. When she looked up at him, her face was noticeably paler. "You got a towel or something?" she asked.

As James got up though, she started to get agitated. "Sit down!" The woman ordered.

James held his hands up, looking at the woman. "But I thought you wanted—"

The Asian woman groaned. "Okay. But slowly." The carving knife was raised now, and James had no doubt that she would throw it. She was clearly in pain, and desperate after all, despite threatening to kill him moments ago.

James got up slowly to reach for a towel by the sink. He wasn't sure if it was clean or not, but he didn't get a chance to see. His eyes were kept on her. Green matched with brown. He tried to get her to trust him, while she tried to show dominance. It was too bad those agendas didn't work out too well. As his hands touched wet, cottony fabric, he grabbed on to the towel and held it out as he maintained eye contact. She didn't seem to like that, since she smacked it away with the knife.

"What?" He asked, surprised. It wasn't the reaction that surprised him though; it was the way he sounded.

"A _clean_ one." she barked.

James reached back again, pulling out a draw and feeling around inside. He could have used any number of implements in that drawer to hurt her. He felt a screwdriver, a wrench, a mallet, and even a hammer. Yet somehow James couldn't bring himself to hurt her. Instead, he went to the back and felt for the cleaner towels.

He withdrewhis hand out again, and she grabbed the towelfrom him.

"Now sit down."

"But don't you—"

"SIT. THE FUCK. DOWN!" She cut him off yet again. James didn't know what to do. He could try defying her and help her, but she had the upper hand here. Even though he was at least twice her size, he knew she was going to win. She had the weapon here; he didn't.

The woman opened her coat and James winced. The fabric under was completely soaked in crimson. She looked at him and snorted, possibly because he had sworn under his breath.

"Haven't you seen blood before?" She sneered, pressing the towel to her wound, and taking a breath.

"Not that much." James winced again as she pressed harder.

"Well, stop gawking." She ordered.

James couldn't help it though. Something about a woman in pain just made him want to run up to her and give her aid.

"Maybe we should call an ambulance." He said, worried about the woman's wellbeing. He wasn't sure why though. Something in his subconscious mind said that he needed to help her.

"I don't think that's an option." She breathed out.

"It looks pretty bad." James rebutted.

"I appreciate your concern." She said, voice dripping in sarcasm as she looked at the towel again. Bloodstained.

"Just trying to help." James mumbled.

"What was that?" She asked, putting the towel down and sitting up straight.

"Nothing."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." James repeated.

"Tell me what you said!" Her voice was escalating now. He needed to tell her something or else Daphne would wake up.

"I said—"

"Yeah?"

"I said—"

"Say it."

"I said: 'Why am I wearing these fucking PJs!'" James growled, glaring at her.

After a moment of silence, she agreed. "Yeah."

"Yeah. I also saidwhy did I get up and make a cup of fucking tea. And why did I turn on the light. And why did I have to buy that set of knives." At that point, James got up and wasn't turning out to be the best of nights for him. To be held hostage in his own home with helicopters flying outside looking for this deranged criminal. "And why didn't I just lock the door so you bled to death on the veranda outside like the mongrel dog you are!" This time he shouted, standing tall and glaring down at the small woman.

The woman was silent for a long time. "Is that all?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's good."

That was all she could say? Her sombre face didn't convince him; but instead of saying anything else, James took a breath. "Great."

"Good."

"Great."

Another pause. The two stood at a standoff, eyeing each other. After another moment or so, the woman took a step back and peered into the living room. James wondered why, though he didn't have much time to dwell too deep on that thought.

"Good place." She commented.

"Pretty old fashioned now." He stated casually. The air in the room seemed to have relaxed ever so slightly.

"Got some nice trophies in there." She waved the knife into the living room.

"Thanks."

"What are they for?"

"Premiers. Three times." He informed her.

"League?"

"Just local stuff. Amateur."

The woman looked back into the room and nodded. "Used to play a bit myself. Hooker."

So she was into rugby as well. James never really paid attention to women playing, though he did recall a time when he had a female friend play. She hadn't been on any of the female teams though.

"Five-eighth." Another long and awkward pause stretched between them, and the sound of sirens and helicopters filled the background.

"You and her the only ones?" The woman asked out of the blue once again. The question had definitely caught James by surprise.

"Her?" He asked dumbly. Who was 'her'?

"Your wife. The only ones here?" The woman repeated, getting irritated. James just nodded. "No kids?" She continued.

"No. No little munchkins." James frowned.

"Munchkins… Funny word." She stated. It was as if she were talking to an old friend.

"Munchkins. Kids." James explained. He didn't get why she didn't know what that meant. People usually got it when he said it, especially in that context.

"I know what it means." She snarled. "Why not?" She asked.

"Why not what?" Again, the question had caught James off-guard and he didn't know what she was saying.

"Kids."

"What's it got to do with you?" James was getting defensive now. He didn't like the fact that the woman was getting so close into his personal life. A stranger trying to hold him hostage was getting into his life now. How absurd of her to think that he would tell her anything.

His feelings changed though, once the knife was coming closer towards him.

"We're waiting." He replied.

"For what?" This time the woman sounded more surprised than anything. James was starting to feel that this was more a conversation between mates than anything else.

"The right time." He replied.

"When's that?"

"I don't know. Ask her." James wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to answer this woman anymore. This was his life after all. He had hoped that it would end when he brought in his wife,but no. He had beenmistaken.

"Alright." She stated. "Let's go ask her."

"Wait, what?" The man was surprised by her reaction. What was this? She couldn't actually mean for him to go and ask his wife when the right time was! The last thing that he wanted to happen was to give his darling Daphne a heart attack! "Ask her what?" He asked, not thinking clearly.

"When is the right time." The woman explained, as if he were a very slow child.

James took a breath and looked back at the woman. She really was crazy, wasn't she? "You want to ask my wife—right now—when is the right time to have kids?" He went very slowly, just to make sure he had understood correctly.

"That's right." Her voice held no emotions.

"Do you want me to get her?" James was being sarcastic, though apparently she didn't get that. If she did, then she was doing a hell of a job playing along. Either way, it was fucking annoying.

"It is a bit hard to ask from here."

"You're mad." He spat at her.

The woman snorted, twirling the knife in her hand. "That's what they say." She sang. She didn't seem as relaxed though, when the helicopter came close once again and the spotlight swooped past.

"Shit! Turn off the lights!" She ordered, crouching lower.

James didn't move though, still irritated.

"Do it, or I'll slit your fucking throat and then I'll do worse to your wife." She growled, eyes narrowing.

Something in James snapped. The bitch didn't bring in Daphne, did she? He took in a breath and moved to turn off the lights. When this ordeal was over, he was sure to call the cops and turn the whore in, just for the hell of it.

As the helicopter flew away, the lights disappeared. He had a feeling that it was safe to turn on the lights, but no. He felt the knife pressed to the back of his neck as he reached over to the switch.

"Do you have a torch?" She asked, sounding paranoid. Who wouldn't after coming close to being caught twice?

"Not sure." He knew that there was one in the drawer under the equipment drawer, but he didn't say it. Why would he want to help her out?

"You don't have a torch? What kind of husband are you?" She snarled, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end as her cold gaze scanned him.

"The kind that isn't sure whether he has a torch or not." James stated calmly.

"Candles?"

"Under the sink." He tried not to let his voice weaver as he felt the tip of the knife touch the back of his neck.

"Get them." She said, pushing him down as best she could.

James decided to play along and kneeled, opening the cupboard under the sink. That only got the knife pressed closer to his body. Well, that was a great help.

"What's that for?" He asked, irritated.

"So you only come out with candles." James couldn't believe that she didn't trust him. Well, she may have had her reasons, but come on! It was late at night, and this had been going on for long enough.

"What, no matches?" He asked.

"Bloody smart arse." She growled, pressing the knife harder to his skin.

Fearing that it would puncture, James gave in. "Okay, okay." He said, holding candles in one hand, and matches in the other. He felt the knife relax and he eased himself out.

"Good. Now light it." The woman ordered.

James took a breath and laid the candles on the table. He struck a match and lit them one by one. After arranging them, he sat down at the table, looking up at the woman.

"Cosy." He sneered.

"Very."

"Our first date."

"What, you like some kind of frustrated stand up?"

"I do it when I'm nervous." James explained. "Crack stupid jokes." It was more that he was irritated, but he wouldn't say that. He didn't want to die after all.

"Since when?" The woman asked as if she had known him for most of his life. It was highly unlikely, since he didn't recognise her at all.

"Since forever." James paused. "And if you want me to stop cracking them, it would help if you sat down and stopped waving that Christmas present for my wife in my face." James stated, offering the woman a seat. He still looked sombre, doing his best to not show his emotions.

She sat down and swore loudly, letting out a whine of pain.

"Sorry. I didn't…" James was cut off yet again as the knife was placed on the table in front of the both of them.

"Better?" Her voice was full of attitude.

"Much." He returned with just as much emotion.

"No more jokes."

"Ceasing hilarity now." He tried to make one more joke, wanting to see her reaction.

"What?" She was growing irritated. Uh-oh.

"Jokes. No more." He nodded as she reached for the knife again. She stopped midway and looked at him. Another pause.

"You did." She stated after a long while.

"What?" This time he wasn't just being stupid. He honestly did not know what she was talking about.

"Lock the back door." She stated. Oh. So it was going back to that little rant he had a few minutes ago.

"Then how did you—" He started, confused.

"Laundry window." She stated,

James groaned. "It doesn't lock properly."

"I know." She grumbled.

"How do you…"

The woman shook her head. "Shit, you're a daft prick." She muttered, stating it as if he were really an idiot.

"What?"

"Jay. It's me." She said, looking into his eyes; her dark, chocolaty eyes shone with a sincere light.

"Who?" His green eyes grew hard at hers.

"Q." She stated.

That was a surprise to him. "Who?" He asked, in shock. It couldn't be who he thought it was… Could it?

"Quyển Nguyễn." The woman stated.

"Q?" He asked. He felt like someone punched him in the stomach and he had the wind knocked out of him.

"Daft prick." She rolled her eyes, gasping when the wound on her side grew wider.

"Quyển? No it's—How did—You…" He was tongue tied. Last time he saw her she was…

"Came in through the laundry window. The way we always did when we came back after the pub closed, so your da' wouldn't…"

James stiffened. "Old bastard." He snarled, though this time it was towards the man that he despised.

Quyển snorted. "How is he?" She asked, holding her side.

"Dead." James stated coldly.

"Shit."

"Two years ago. Prostate cancer."

The woman winced. "Sounds painful." She frowned.

"Hope so."

"Jay—Don't say that." She frowned.

"Why not? He was a cunt."

"Still, he's your father." She was getting technical now. James knew that she didn't care for the man, and even if she was technically a wanted woman, he was glad to see she still had some morals.

"Yeah, and he was a cunt." James growled. Though after a moment, it hit him like a tonne of bricks yet again. "Q?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah." She panted. "Q. Thought you would've figured when I said I used to play hooker."

"Sorry… I'm not thinking straight. I was just accosted by some chick holding a knife to my throat in my kitchen." James stated coldly.

"You mean your da's kitchen?"

"No. Actually, it's mine." James corrected. He had gotten it out of inheritance after the old man died. That was probably the best—and only—thing that he had ever done for James. Well, aside from the help he had given conceiving him.

"And your mother?"

"She left." James was blunt since he did not wish to dwell on that. Before the woman could say anything, he continued. "So. Q. How are you?" he asked, looking at her.

"How do I look?" She asked, giving him sass. He could tell that she wasn't in the mood, but now that he knew it was just Quyển, he wasn't worried.

"I can't tell. It's kind of dark." He shrugged.

She groaned, getting up as she used the table for support. "Jay. I'm in your kitchen in the middle of the night, bleeding to death while police cruisers are going round the neighbourhood and helicopters are circling overhead." She spelled it out for him slowly. "How the FUCK do you think I'm doing!" She roared.

James stared at her, processing what she had said. "A simple 'I am not doing so well' would have sufficed." He stated. "But what did you do?"

"What didn't I do?" She snorted.

"Rob some place?"

"Keep going."

"Assault?"

"Keep going."

James stopped dead in his tracks.

"You didn't." He said, horrified.

"And it was not the first time." She sounded so ladylike; it was hard to believe that she would kill anyone.

"Shit."

"What?"

"It's heavy. Freaking heavy. The Sheila who used to my friend, who I used to get pissed with and pick up blokes and sheilas with, sneak home with—is now running round and killing people!" James swallowed hard, trying to piece things together. It was too much for him to handle.

"They deserved it." She tried to defend herself.

"That so?" James was sceptical about that.

"You didn't know 'em." She mumbled, looking away from James.

That pissed him off. "Really?" He asked. "Then what about me? Do I deserve it Q? Does Daphne?" He asked, moving closer to her. "Is that why you came here tonight? To rack up another victim! Your old teammate!" He didn't care if his wife woke up now. He WANTED her to wake up to see this pathetic waste of life.

"Calm down." Quyển hushed, looking nervously at the door.

"Cut him up with the kitchen cutlery! Another one who deserves it!" James was hysterical now. He couldn't believe it.

"Of course not." She shushed him again.

"Then why did you come here? What the FUCK are you doing in my kitchen!" James demanded. "WHY did you come here!"

Quyển inhaled. "I knew how to get in." A pause. He continued to look at her expectantly. "When they started chasing me, I drove over here. Ditched the car. I know these streets; these houses. I thought I could lose them." She admitted.

"And did you?" James knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"Does it look like I did?"

James glared at her still. He didn't want this woman in his house anymore.

"It think you should go."

"What?"

"I said—I think you should go." There was no sympathy in his voice. He wouldn't have any sympathy for this stranger.

"Jay. I'm bleeding." She frowned, taking a breath.

"So? You heard me. Get out."

"Did you forget I have a knife?" She asked, hoping that it would give her some power over him still.

James didn't bat an eye though. "I don't care. Get out." He didn't bat an eye as he said so.

"How do you know I won't cut you down now?" She asked, getting close to James.

"I don't." He said; again there was no fear in his voice. He had had enough of this shit.

She stared at him for a moment and frowned. She turned around and headed towards the back door.

"Q." She paused and turned, looking at James. "You gonna die?"

"Don't know… Are you going to call the cops?" She returned.

"Not sure." He frowned. "Q."

"What?"

"What happened to you?" James looked at her. She used to be that innocent girl down the street. That kind and sweet girl that he could always go to when he had a problem, or when he wanted to just chill.

"I often ask myself that." She replied, distant.

"And?"

"I don't know…" She frowned. "Hey. Do you remember in a game when sometimes I'd get whacked in the mouth or something? Start bleeding and I'd have to go and get stitched up."

"Blood bin." James stated.

"Yeah." She nodded. "That's it. And somebody else would come and take my place. And when I was fixed up, I'd come back in."

"Blood reversal."

"I liked that. Getting fixed up and then coming back. I wish I could do that now. Get off, get fixed, and have someone replace me for a little bit."

"I don't think it works like that." James was close tobreaking down now. He couldn't maintain his cold exterior for long.

"No… See you round Jay."

"See you round Q."

"Wish me luck."

He didn't say anything else after that. He simply watched silently as she left the house. The helicopters could be heard landing, and the blinding lights had switched off. He knew that if he went to check and see, he would find her bloodied body in his backyard.

He didn't care though.

She deserved it.


End file.
